


Tick, Tock

by unhinged (anti60ne)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Noir, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anti60ne/pseuds/unhinged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy named Kai would only appear to Luhan when the clock stops ticking, and Luhan is running out of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tick, Tock

_Tick, Tock._

 

 

A grandfather clock stood in the foyer of a Victorian mansion, its age masked by the absence of dust. The hands turned at a slow timeliness, ticking persistently as if to fill the emptiness of the house. Every morning at seven o’clock sharp, before his butler ushered him out the door and into the stately limousine that would take him to school, Luhan took a freshly cleaned cloth and wiped down each visible facet of the clock. He would gaze at the face, standing still just before the minute hand ticked as cue for him to get going, then finally turn around on his heels.

 

After school, by the time Luhan leapt out of the limousine and dashed inside his house, a plate of cookies and a glass of milk were already neatly arranged on a tray placed on the dining table off to the right of the foyer. Even though the household staff was busy with chores, the mansion was eerily quiet, its vastness damping noise into a faint buzz.

 

“I’m home!”

 

Luhan shouted to no one in particular as he shuffled into the dining room, his voice bouncing off the ivory walls. It didn’t stir him in the least – as an orphan, he was used to the vacancy of his home, the growing rift between him, the heir to an estate and business worth billions, and the household staff who had difficulty getting accustomed to the teenager with a monumental segment of his life forgotten. They found it unsettling that Luhan had stopped asking questions when he turned 16 a few months ago, questions about how his parents died, about the thick scar draping diagonally across his left clavicle. It was as if the boy had found his answers somewhere else, his memory rekindled by something outside the bounds of this estate.

 

It never occurred to the staff that Luhan’s 16th birthday was the day when the grandfather clock started ticking again.

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

“Is there anything else you would like attended to, sir?” asked a young uniformed boy after he drew the curtains close in Luhan’s bedroom, hands folded neatly in front of him.

 

“No. Just turn out the lights on your way out, Sehun.” Luhan drawled, hand stifling a yawn as he sank under the velvet duvet on his king-sized bed.

 

“Yes, sir.” Sehun flipped down the switch by the door. “Good night.” He bowed as he backed out of the room, gently pulling the door closed behind him. Luhan raised an arm and tossed a casual wave, then pulled the duvet across his face.

 

“Wait.” Luhan suddenly called out, drawing Sehun back into the room. Sehun switched on the lights.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“What time is it?” Luhan asked, wide eyes boring into the ceiling as he remained lying flat.

 

Sehun looked down at his wristwatch.

 

“It is a quarter to midnight, sir.”

 

Luhan mulled this over.

 

“I see. Thanks, Sehun. Good night.”

 

Sehun gave a small bow before retreating. The room was enveloped in utter darkness. Luhan closed his eyes, his breaths slowing to a lull. The monotonous whisper of the clock downstairs became magnified in silence, roaring through the walls, under the gaps of doors, and into Luhan’s ears.

 

_Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock._

 

Luhan tried to keep his eyes open, but eventually succumbed to the force of sleep. Mere minutes before the hour hand struck twelve, Luhan’s eyes fluttered shut.

 

Luhan stirred awake when he felt warm breaths huffing over his face. As he drew his eyes open, a familiar face loomed into view.

 

“Jongin.” Luhan rasped, eyes growing to full orbs as he smiled widely. The said boy frowned, lips sewn into a tight pout.

 

“It’s Kai!” he griped, flicking Luhan’s forehead. “Why do you keep calling me that? Sheesh.”

The boy huffed as he plunked down on the bed, arms thrown across his chest. Luhan pushed himself up and rested on his elbows as he watched the boy sitting by his side, facing him. His hair had grown since Luhan last saw him, soft brown locks cascading down and almost hiding his large liquid eyes. He was wearing a light grey tee shirt and dark wash denim jeans this time, different from the maroon polo shirt and khaki pants a few weeks ago.

 

 _You_ are _Jongin, I know you are_ , Luhan reaffirmed silently, but he didn’t refute. In that fleeting moment of silence, Luhan’s ears tuned into the conspicuous absence of tick-tocks. The clock had stopped.

 

“C’mon, sleepy head, we don’t have much time.” The boy named Kai grabbed Luhan’s hand and pulled Luhan up straight. “I have something to show you.”

 

The mischievous twinkles in his eyes expelled all the drowsiness in Luhan, who let himself be dragged off the bed and out of his bedroom. They tiptoed down the dim hallway while suppressing bouts of giggles, and Luhan didn’t realize he was in his bare feet until he stepped onto the damp grass outside. He shrugged. It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t real.

 

 _This isn’t real_ , Luhan reminded himself as the boy tugged him forward, striding toward the lake just outside the estate bounds. Even though the grass tickled the bottom of his feet, even though the nighttime breeze chilled the hair on his skin, even though the larger hand holding his own was warm, so warm—none of this was real. It never was. It was just a dream. It had to be, because Jongin was dead.

 

They came to a stop just a few feet from the shoreline. The water was tranquil like a mirror, with the moon being the sole reflection. The boy named Kai bent down and surveyed the ground, then picked up a stone.

 

“Luhan,” he called and grinned. “Watch this.” He slung the stone horizontally across the water, and Luhan watched it skip away in precise ripples that tore through the still surface. Then the boy picked up another stone, bouncing it about in his hand before tossing it to Luhan. “Try it.”

 

Luhan caught the stone out of reflex. He still had questions to ask, questions that sat on his mind heavier than the pebble on the palm of his hand. Luhan hesitated, then stepped forward until he fell in line with the boy.

 

“If I make it skip farther than you did, you have to answer my questions,” said Luhan as his hand closed around the stone, curling the weight into his palm. The boy was silent as he chewed over Luhan’s proposition.

 

“Alright.”

 

Luhan cast the stone across the lake. They watched ripples emerge and fade until the pebble sank. The boy sighed and slumped down on the ground, long legs stretching out before him. Luhan’s eyes were trained on the water long after the last ripple had vanished.

 

“You win. Ask away.”

 

Luhan sat down next to the boy, drawing his legs to his chest. He turned his head and rested one cheek on top of his knees, studying the boy. Their first meeting – the first time Luhan met this boy who calls himself Kai – flashed vividly before Luhan’s eyes.

 

_“Jongin?” Luhan started awake when he felt a finger pressing into his nose. Swimming into his view was a face that he hadn’t seen since that fateful accident months ago, the incident that took away his parents’ lives. Jongin had been in the car with them. Luhan was the sole survivor._

_“What? It’s Kai, you idiot!” The boy named Kai pinched Luhan’s nose, disgruntled. “How do you not know my name when we’ve been friends since forever?” Luhan gaped at him in disbelief. He looked just like Jongin, talked like Jongin, even his mannerisms mirrored Jongin’s. Luhan didn’t understand why he kept calling himself Kai instead._

_They argued about the boy’s name at their first meeting, and Luhan was so upset that he burst into tears. When the boy softened and pulled Luhan into a hug, the familiar warmth assuaged Luhan’s disquietude, and Luhan knew for sure the taller boy was Jongin,_ his _Jongin, regardless of who the boy himself claimed to be._

_Luhan had thought it was a dream. But when the boy continued to visit him only when the clock struck a certain hour and stopped ticking, Luhan knew it was no less real than the reality he lived. He began to ask the boy questions, at first to test if he was really, in essence, the Jongin he knew. Luhan asked him details about each other – birthday, birthplace, favorite subject in school, favorite sports. The boy gave answers that Luhan expected, passing the test with flying colors. But when Luhan started delving deeper, asking the boy where he lived now, what happened to Luhan’s parents, why was there a huge scar across his collarbone, the boy named Kai would fall quiet, supplying the same response each time – “You already know the answer, if you think hard enough.”_

 

“Do you know who Jongin is?”

 

“The person you keep mistaking me for?” Luhan stilled, then nodded. The boy shook his head. “No. I’ve never heard of him.”

 

It wasn’t the response Luhan was looking for, but somehow, he felt that this was the best answer he could get out of the boy named Kai. Besides the name, everything about the boy was an exact replica of Luhan’s childhood best friend. He was still Jongin, Luhan concluded, he just called himself Kai.

 

 _Maybe he’s Kai in this dimension_ , Luhan mused.

 

“Who is he?” the boy asked Luhan, turning curious eyes toward him. Luhan was taken aback. He pulled his chin straight, resting it on top of his knees.

 

“No one. It’s not important.”

 

Luhan suddenly felt cold. He wrapped his arms tighter around his knees and pressed his chest into his thighs. The pajamas he had on were too thin against the cool air of the night.

 

“Cold?” asked the boy named Kai. Luhan mumbled an assent. The boy curled an arm around Luhan and tilted him close. The familiar warmth pressed into Luhan’s back and all around until it resurfaced as a contented smile on his face. The boy was always so warm, as if the seasons had ceased to exist in his world. He rested his head on Luhan’s while drawing unknown shapes on his arm, like tapping a lullaby in Braille.

 

“Luhan,” the boy spoke after some moment, and Luhan’s heart dropped knowing what he was going to say. “I have to go.” He stayed still as he murmured into Luhan’s hair.

 

“No. Don’t.” Luhan whined. _Don’t leave me_ , _I have no one else_. Each length of the boy’s stay was becoming shorter, and Luhan was certain it wasn’t because time was warped when he entered this dimension.

 

“Please, J-Kai. Stay with me.” Luhan turned and buried into the boy’s chest, arms linked tightly behind his back. The boy stilled. His arms around Luhan stiffened, stuck in between letting go and winding tighter.

 

“I can’t,” he whispered. “Time—“

 

“What can I do to make you stay?” Luhan raised his head and looked up at the boy, desperate tears brimming his eyes as he clutched the boy’s shirt. The boy gazed at him like he was asking for the stars. He closed his eyes and pressed warm lips into Luhan’s cold forehead.

 

“The clock. Make—“

 

Then he was gone. There was only dust and wind where the boy’s warmth used to be, and tears tumbled down Luhan’s cheeks as he shut his eyes dejectedly.

 

When Luhan opened his eyes again, it was morning, and he was in his bed. A dreamlike uneasiness crept up on him when he felt something in his hand.

 

It was a pebble.

 

Luhan stared at the stone blankly as snippets of the previous night whizzed past him. He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard gentle knocks on the door. Luhan gave permission for entry. Sehun entered and greeted Luhan with a bow.

 

“Sir, breakfast is ready,” informed the servant boy. “Would you like me to bring it here? Or—“

 

“No, I’ll go downstairs.” Luhan cut him off absentmindedly, leaving Sehun slightly stumped.

 

“A-alright, sir. I will let the cook know.”

 

Sehun stood rooted by the door as he stared at Luhan shuffle past him and out into the hallway in a daze. Sehun cocked his head to the side, bewildered by his master’s uncharacteristic behavior. Luhan usually changed out of his pajamas before having breakfast, and he almost never interrupted Sehun in the middle of speaking. As Sehun’s eyes lingered after Luhan’s back, he noticed something on the floor – a trail of green smudged across the wood in a faint form of footprints. He frowned.

 

Before Luhan left for school he went through his daily routine of wiping down the grandfather clock. He stared at the hands that pointed to the correct numbers of seven and twelve, then recalled that the clock had stopped the night before. He thought it must have been reset by one of the staff in the morning. He called for the nearest maid, a slightly pudgy, middle-aged woman who was dusting the vases on the dining table.

 

“Yes, sir?” The maid quickly shuffled toward Luhan, wiping her hands on the apron.

 

“Who reset the clock this morning?”

 

“Eh?” The woman looked confused. “No one. We don’t touch the clock, sir.”

 

Now Luhan was the one hit by puzzlement.

 

“But the clock stops… how does it go back to ticking again?”

 

“It—I didn’t even know that it stops, sir.” The woman colored as she answered honestly.

 

“I’m the one who resets the clock, sir.”

 

A boyish voice rang from the other side of the foyer. Luhan turned and saw Sehun come forth, abashment worn on his face.

 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to touch the clock… I just wanted to make sure it’d tell time correctly,” Sehun confessed in a tiny voice, head hung low. Luhan was about to reassure him that it wasn’t a crime that he did it when the driver informed him it was time to leave for school.

 

“It’s fine, Sehun. I’m not mad. We’ll talk about this later.”

 

Luhan patted Sehun lightly on the shoulder before taking off. Sehun straightened his back and watched Luhan get in the limousine, eyes dark and unreadable.

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

Throughout the majority of his classes Luhan found himself spacing out, doodling an assortment of clocks on his notebook. During the self-study period, Luhan decided to come up with a plan. He listed the things he knew:

 

1\. The boy named Kai is Jongin

2\. Jongin shows up when the clock stops

3\. Jongin disappears when???

 

Then he scribbled below the list in capital letters: HOW TO MAKE JONGIN STAY

 

Luhan stared at the cursive, willing it to conjure up the solution on its own. Then he remembered Jongin’s words right before he vanished – he had mentioned the clock. The grandfather clock was a family heirloom that was passed down for generations. Since Luhan’s parents passed away, Luhan had been treating the clock like a memento, something to remember them by. His daily morning ritual with the clock, in some way, was a personal memorial dedicated to his parents, a silent token of I-miss-you.

 

An epiphany was burrowing its way out of the surface of Luhan’s consciousness, but it seemed to crawl back in when the bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Luhan was left as muddled as he was before.

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

That same night, Luhan finally managed to stay awake past midnight to hear the clock strike twelve, but the boy never showed. He grew agitated as he waited, hands grasping and loosening the edges of the duvet. In the end, Luhan drifted to sleep while the clock ticked faithfully.

 

_Tick, tock._

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

The next morning, a weekend, Luhan woke to the sound of footsteps shuffling in the hallway. He yawned and extended into a full stretch, kicking the duvet off to the side. He was never this sensitive to noise, but ever since the clock took residence in his mind his ears seemed to perk up at decibels that were once dulled. He rolled off the bed and toed into slippers, then padded out of his bedroom. A maid was in the hallway, bustling about with stacks of folded sheets cradled in her arms. She gasped when she saw Luhan emerge.

 

“Sir, you’re up early! I’m sorry if I woke you—“The maid hurriedly stammered an apology, bowing.

 

“No, it’s fine.” Luhan dismissed with a good-natured wave. “I’m hungry. Is breakfast ready?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Luhan contemplated for a moment.

 

"Have it brought into my room."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Luhan returned to his room and stood by the full-length windows. He peered over the grass field, his gaze drifting to the lake beyond. He thought about the night when he skipped stones with the boy named Kai, when he slipped out of Luhan’s grasp into the night.

 

A knock came from the door. Luhan granted permission for entry. Sehun walked in with a tray of pastries, fruits, and a jug of juice.

 

"Your breakfast is here, sir."

 

Luhan glanced over his shoulder. "Put it on the bedside table."

 

Footsteps shuffled, followed by a soft thud of the tray. Luhan turned around and looked at Sehun.

 

"Sehun, sit down."

 

Sehun widened his eyes in half-surprise, half-horror. He sputtered something incoherent, tense form rooted to the spot by bedside.

 

"It's fine, just sit down on the bed," Luhan said as he walked toward the lanky boy and plopped down on the bed. He looked at Sehun who still looked hesitant, and gave the duvet a few pats. Sehun cautiously lowered himself on the bed like it was a broken chair.

 

"I wanted to talk to you about the clock," Luhan began. Sehun looked down at his hands and swallowed.

 

"I know that you mean well, but I'm gonna ask you to stop resetting the clock."

 

Sehun's wide eyes snapped to Luhan. 

 

"But—"

 

"It's an order, Sehun," Luhan said firmly, holding Sehun with his eyes.

 

Sehun dropped his gaze and fell silent.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Luhan studied the boy and the disheartened look on his face. Confusion tapped Luhan on the shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

 

"You may be dismissed."

 

Sehun nodded and quickly got on his feet, keeping his head lowered. Luhan remained seated on the bed when the door shut. He looked out the windows and smiled in the hope that he would see the boy again tonight.

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

Luhan was wide awake even after Sehun turned out the lights and night began to settle into the wee hours. His heart drummed loudly in anticipation of the twelfth hour that signaled the cessation of the soft and steady tick-tocks.

 

He held his breath when the clock struck twelve. What followed was silence. He smiled and closed his eyes. Minutes later, he felt the bed dip. He opened his eyes and twisted his head to the side.

 

"Hi." Luhan whispered to the grinning boy lying on his side, head propped on an elbow.

 

"You did it, huh," the boy named Kai said. "You stopped the clock."

 

"Of course. I figured it out," Luhan said, smiling proudly. The boy named Kai suppressed a laugh and reached out, ruffling Luhan's hair.

 

"So smart."

 

Luhan's smile stretched wide across his face and he snuggled close to the boy.

 

"Now you don't ever have to leave," Luhan mumbled and threw an arm around the boy. The boy was quiet and tipped back, lying on the bed. Luhan's face fell.

 

"Right? You don't have to leave, right?" Luhan asked agitatedly, tightening his hold around the boy. The boy stared into the ceiling.

 

"I don't know, Luhan."

 

The uncertainty in his voice drove despair into Luhan and pulled him up. He slammed his hands on either side of the boy and looked into his face, eyes large and frantic.

 

"What do you mean you don't know? I stopped the clock. You said all I had to do was to stop the clock!" Luhan raised his voice, shaking in frustration.

 

"Shhhh, you'll wake the others up." The boy named Kai covered Luhan's mouth and sat up. He pulled Luhan into his arms and smoothed a hand up and down his back. Luhan felt his eyes sting and his brows pulled into a tight knot.

 

"Why isn't this enough? I don't get it." Luhan mumbled into the boy's neck through a pout. The boy named Kai frowned, and the creases on his forehead burrowed deeper as he pursed his lips.

 

"What else do I have do?" Luhan pulled back, his eyes pleading. Jongin met his desperate gaze and sighed.

 

"Nothing. It's not you."

 

"Then what? Tell me."

 

"It's—"

 

A few raps rang through the door and Luhan's head whipped toward it, eyes widening in fright. Warmth fled from his body and he looked to his side. The boy was gone. The knocks came again, more urgently this time. Luhan barely stifled a groan and climbed out of bed. He flung the door open in annoyance and came to meet Sehun gaping at him with an ashen face.

 

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I heard noises..." Sehun said tentatively. He peered over Luhan's shoulders. "Is everything alright?"

 

Luhan squeezed his eyes tight and heaved a sigh in resignation.

 

"Yes. Everything's fine," Luhan said in a strained voice. He suddenly felt very tired. He glanced at Sehun, who was watching him carefully. "I was just... talking to myself."

 

Sehun peered at him unconvinced. But he nodded and bowed.

 

"Good night, sir."

 

Luhan nodded curtly. He took a step back and pushed the door closed. He paused and called for Sehun.

 

"Thanks for checking up on me," Luhan said with a weak smile.

 

Sehun beamed at Luhan reassuringly. He bent over in another bow as Luhan shut the door.

 

When he straightened up and turned around, the smile was stripped from his face, cold eyes boring into the dim hallway.

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

Luhan awoke the next morning with dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He had tossed and turned the night before, drifting to sleep and then jolting awake at random hours of the night. It was as if his subconscious was still expecting the appearance of the boy named Kai. The boy's last words before he vanished sat heavily on Luhan's chest. Luhan was at a loss. He thought he had solved the problem of the clock, but apparently there was something more.

 

 

The next night passed with the clock steadily ticking through the late hours. Luhan confronted Sehun, asking him why he disobeyed his order, but Sehun insisted he did no such thing, and suggested that perhaps the spring in the clock re-wound itself after periods of rest. The way Sehun quailed to the accusation made Luhan shrink in guilt. He apologized for misunderstanding Sehun, coloring in shame for pointing fingers at his innocent servant. As much as he hated to admit, what Sehun said was an enormous possibility. The only thing Luhan could do now was to hope the spring would wear itself out and eventually stop winding.

 

That night, Luhan went to bed agitated. The tick-tocks echoed into his ears and kept him up through the night. The boy named Kai didn’t appear.

 

When he woke the next morning, Luhan's head felt so muddled, his consciousness waddling in dirty water. He groaned loudly as he pushed himself up from the bed. He looked at his watch – he was running late for school. He rolled onto his stomach and moaned into the pillow. After luxuriating in a moment of whining, he finally forced himself to get out of bed. He rushed to get dressed into his uniform and ran down the hallway then the stairs. When he bounced into the foyer, the driver was waiting at the door.

 

"Sir, your breakfast--" a maid called and emerged with a tray. Luhan glanced at the food and snatched up a slice of toast. He shoved it into his mouth and whipped around to face the grandfather clock. The hour hand rested at seven, and the minute hand was between eleven and twelve. Groaning, he picked up the cloth hung on a hook beside the clock and wiped down the front face of the clock in one slow, firm stroke.

 

"Sorry, mom and dad, I'm running late today," Luhan mumbled. He clutched the cloth in his hand and, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sehun. He tossed the cloth to Sehun, who caught it with widened eyes.

 

"Wipe it down for me, will you?"

 

Then Luhan took off in haphazard steps, shrugging on his jacket while gulping down a glass of milk.

 

Sehun stood frozen to his spot in a daze, unsure what just happened. A maid snapped her fingers, jolting him out of his reverie.

 

"Get on with it," the maid said, lips turned down sternly.

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

Sehun stretched the cloth out and plastered it on a spot just below the clock face. He dragged the cloth over the surface slowly, carefully. When the other servants cleared from the foyer, leaving him alone with the clock, Sehun stopped wiping and dropped his arm. He gazed into the face of the clock for a long while.

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

Luhan crawled under the velvet duvet and pulled the fabric up to his chin. He could hear the tick-tocks over Sehun's shuffled footsteps, and let out a soft sigh in anticipation of another sleepless night. After Sehun pulled the curtains closed and set out Luhan's uniform for the next day, he picked up a tray on the table by the door and walked to the bedside.

 

"Sir, um..." Sehun began timidly as he set the tray on the bedside table. Luhan raised his eyes. He looked between Sehun and the item on the tray – a glass of milk. Sehun held the glass out to Luhan.

 

"It seems that you're having trouble sleeping recently, so I took the liberty of bringing you a glass of warm milk. I heard from the maids that it'll help you sleep."

 

Luhan dragged himself up and leaned against the head of the bed. He peered into Sehun's face, tense and uncertain. Then he smiled broadly and reached for the glass.

 

"Thanks, Sehun."

 

Sehun watched as Luhan drank the glass empty, then smiled. He handed Luhan a napkin to wipe the stain on his lips.

 

"Good night, Sehun."

 

"Good night, sir."

 

Sehun picked up the tray and turned out the lights on his way out. The smile remained on his face after he closed the door behind him.

 

"Sweet dreams, Luhan," Sehun whispered into the dark.

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

 

Awakening came to Luhan abruptly as if he had slept for only a second. He had a dreamless sleep, which he usually appreciated, but he set out for school with unease. He had slept so soundly that he didn’t recall if he had heard the clock stop, and this uncertainty gnawed his insides incessantly.

 

For the next few nights, Sehun continued to bring Luhan a glass of warm milk before bed, which Luhan graciously accepted. A dreamless sleep always followed.

 

The boy named Kai hadn't appeared in almost a month.

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

As Luhan returned to his room after washing up in the bathroom, a maid was fluffing up his pillow instead of Sehun.

 

"Where's Sehun?" Luhan asked as he approached the bed. He took note of the tray with a glass of milk placed on the table by the door. The maid expertly smoothed the pillow cover and turned to face Luhan.

 

"He said he had errands to run, sir."

 

"I see."

 

Luhan climbed into bed as the maid moved to the windows and began to pull the curtains. Though it was unusual for a servant to run errands at an hour this late, Luhan didn’t think much of it. He settled into a comfortable seat against the head of the bed and waited for the maid to bring him the glass of milk. The maid handed him the glass when a call for her crept through the barely open door.

 

"Go on. Just leave the bedside lamp on."

 

Luhan took the glass from her hand. The maid bowed gratefully and switched on the lamp by the bed. She turned out the lights and shuffled out the room, the door thudding shut behind her. Footsteps quickly faded into the darkness, and Luhan was left alone.

 

Luhan brought the glass to his lips. He was about to take a sip when his ears tuned into the utter silence. The clock wasn't ticking.

 

He froze, unsure if his ears were playing tricks on him. There was no doubt about it; the silence dragged and loitered. He could barely remember the last time he was awash in such silence and his heart began to pound. He put the glass of milk away, untasted. Then he lay down and turned out the bedside lamp. He closed his eyes. And he waited.

 

"Luhan."

 

A voice breathed against his ears and Luhan's eyes fluttered open. He wasn’t sure if he'd fallen asleep; if he had, it must have been only a few minutes as grogginess hadn't yet clogged his mind. He blinked. It was the boy named Kai.

 

"Jongin," Luhan whispered. This time, the boy didn’t correct him. Luhan's eyes focused on the anxious frown on his face. "What's wrong?" Luhan asked as he straightened up and drew near to the boy.

 

"We're running out of time. You have to do something. Quick."

 

The boy named Kai scooted closer to Luhan and clutched his shirt. Panic draped over his face, his eyes skittish like those of a frightened kitten.

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"It's Sehun, he—"

 

Eyes widened, Luhan didn’t get a chance to ask when the boy vanished into the air. The sound of Sehun's name hung thick in the air, hovering over Luhan’s head like a nebulous cloud, threatening of rain. He frowned.

 

_Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock._

 

Luhan sat in a stupor until the sound of resuming ticks grew impossibly loud in his ears. Bewilderment mixed with an undertone of irked curiosity pushed him off the bed. He inched toward the door, bare-footed, and pressed his cheek against the door. He listened. The clock turned steadily, pulsing like a quiet bass through the door and into his ears.

 

Luhan nudged the door open with a small creak. He padded down the hallway, slow and soundless. When he reached halfway down the stairway leading to the foyer, he spotted someone under the moonlight creeping through the window.

 

It was Sehun. He stood before the clock, right hand lifted and turning something. Luhan couldn’t see what he was doing, blocked by the bulk of the clock. Sehun seemed engrossed, eyes trained at a spot inside the clock. He didn’t notice Luhan lurking down the stairs, back hunched and hidden behind the handrail.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

Sehun jumped, snapping his head to the source of the voice with wide eyes, his right hand stuck inside the clock.

 

"S-sir... what are you doing up?"

 

Luhan straightened up and approached Sehun slowly, pinning the servant boy with his gaze.

 

"I should ask you the same question."

 

Sehun gulped. He shakily withdrew his right hand and pulled his left hand behind his back.

 

"You haven't answered my question. What were you doing?" Luhan reiterated, voice firmer this time. He shot a glance at the clock. The glass panel underneath the front face was open, revealing the motionless pendulum.

 

"I—nothing. I'm just—"

 

"You were doing something to the clock."

 

Sehun fell quiet, eyes dropped to the floor.

 

"What's in your hand?"

 

Sehun remained still, lips clamped tightly and right hand curled into a fist.

 

"Sehun, show me your left hand."

 

Luhan waited, eyes piercing straight into Sehun's face. After a moment, Sehun finally stretched out his left hand and brandished a plastic squeeze bottle with a long dispensing tip. Luhan stepped closer and examined the bottle. The liquid inside was slightly yellow and viscous.

 

"That's oil," Luhan affirmed aloud. He raised steely eyes to Sehun's face. "You were oiling the clock," Luhan whispered, anger treading in his voice. "Why would you do such a thing? I specifically told you not to," he hissed, hands winding tight.

 

"You don't understand." Sehun muttered, finally lifting his eyes to meet Luhan's. "You never will."

 

A sheet of cold agony cloaked the windows of Sehun's eyes. Luhan stared. He felt as if he never knew this boy.

 

"What are you talking about?" Luhan asked. He reached for the bottle but Sehun yanked back his hand and stepped backward. "Sehun. Give me the bottle."

 

"No." Sehun shook his head slowly, his face quailing. Luhan stepped closer cautiously. "You can't have Kai."

 

Luhan stopped dead in his tracks.

 

"How do you know about Kai?"

 

"Kai is mine," Sehun said, voice trembling as he clutched the bottle close to his chest with both hands. "You can't take him away from me."

 

"Sehun, calm down."

 

Luhan was alarmed by Sehun's behavior, the pale face and quivering hands concealing something more ominous than the dread pooling in his stomach. He slowed in his strides as Sehun continued backing away. One forward and one backward, their steps sluggishly drew a broken circle in the foyer as they marked each other with an unyielding gaze.

 

"He's my best friend. _Mine_. Not yours. It's not fair that only _you_ get to see him in the middle of the night. It's not fair!" Sehun cried out. Luhan gaped at his distorted face, the face of a maniac.

 

"I knew Kai way before you did, Luhan." Sehun continued, voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. His eyes were unfocused, looking at Luhan's face but not seeing. "We grew up together at the orphanage. He was my best friend until you took him away from me. Then you killed him."

 

"No, Sehun. Listen to me—"

 

"You killed him! Was it not enough to steal my best friend? It's all your fault that he's gone. It's your fault!"

 

Sehun suddenly lunged at Luhan, the bottle falling from his hands to the floor and rolling away. He gripped Luhan by the collar of his nightshirt, yanking him forward and Luhan yelped. Sehun was thinner than Luhan, but his height put him at an advantage. Luhan scrambled on his feet as Sehun shoved him to the wall, his hands clawing at Sehun's arms. Sehun closed his hands around Luhan's neck and squeezed. Luhan gasped, face growing red.

 

"You will pay for Kai's death. If not for you, he would still be alive," Sehun snarled, his palms pressing into Luhan's veins, smothering the pulse. Luhan struggled to shake his head. His lips began to turn slightly purple, his vision blurred.

 

_Luhan! Luhan, wake up!_

 

Luhan's eyelids squeezed and opened slowly. A face adorned with sun-kissed skin and a boyish smile swam into view.

 

 _Jongin_...

 

With strength suddenly surging through his limbs Luhan's leg shot upward, his foot stamping on Sehun's stomach. Sehun flew backward and crashed to the ground with a loud groan. Several household staff emerged on the stairs, gasping with wide eyes. The butler scuffled down the stairs and reached for Sehun when Luhan spoke.

 

"Stay back," Luhan ordered firmly, panting as his lungs drank in air, eyes trained on Sehun who cradled his stomach in a grimace. "This is between me and him."

 

The butler slowly backed away, eyes flitting worriedly between the two boys. Luhan rubbed at his neck, the pulse thrumming vibrantly underneath the pads of his fingers. He gulped in deep breaths as he regained balance on his feet, maintaining a safe distance from Sehun. Sehun rolled to his side and struggled to his feet, breathing heavily. His eyes raised and glowered into Luhan's face treacherously. The household staff stood rooted to the stairs, craning over the handrails and wringing their restless hands. The butler had retreated to the bottom of the stairs, watching the two boys anxiously.

 

"Look, I'm sorry about Jong-Kai's death," Luhan said carefully. He bit back from wincing at the last word that stung his tongue. "But it was an accident. You know that, Sehun."

 

Sehun glared at him. He was crouched down, shoulders tensing like a wolf ready to attack on its prey.

 

"If you hadn't asked him to go with you, he wouldn't have. He would've never gotten into the car if you hadn’t asked," said Sehun, then his voice dropped. "He did everything you ever asked of him." Luhan caught a tinge of pain in Sehun's whisper. He frowned, lips drawn tight.

 

"Sehun, let's just talk this out, okay? It'll be alright," Luhan said slowly, attempting to coax Sehun like a trainer would to tame a lion. Sehun narrowed his eyes at him. Luhan’s stomach dropped as he realized that Sehun was untamable.

 

"Will it?" Sehun chuckled coldly as he took calculated steps across the foyer. Luhan watched him warily, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "Will you bring him back from the dead? Will you give up your nightly vision of him so I'll be the only one that sees him? Will you, Luhan?" Sehun's voice grew louder, clipped by implacable indignation.

 

"Sehun—"

 

"You're lying, Luhan. You don't deserve him."

 

Sehun whipped to the tea table by his side and snatched up the vase perched on the surface, hurling it at Luhan with both arms lifted above his head. Luhan blinked, unable to move as he gaped at the object slashing through the air and toward his face.

 

"Master!"

 

When he blinked again, Luhan found himself flush against the floor, his right arm wedged between the lush carpet and his side. He groaned and rubbed his smarting right elbow as the butler helped him up. The butler had tackled him to the ground, saving him from the vase that smashed into the clock behind Luhan instead.

 

"Sir, are you alright?" the butler asked but Luhan didn’t answer him. He looked up at Sehun, who had slumped to the floor on his knees, life drawn out of his eyes that looked over Luhan's head. Luhan followed his line of gaze.

 

The front face of the grandfather clock was broken, leaving jagged edges in the glass.

 

"No!"

 

Luhan gasped, scrambling to his feet and pressing his face close to the clock, feet barely missing the shattered glass and pieces of the vase littering the floor. The clock hands twitched feebly like a dying man struggling to find his last breath. Shaking, Luhan wheeled around to Sehun who was held back by two staff.

 

"What have you done?!" Luhan cried. Sehun's face was pasty, chalky lips quivering. Then their eyes widened simultaneously, staring into the space between them. Dust particles in the air weaved into the moonlight and swirled around until an image appeared. It was the boy with bronze skin and ruffled air, the vision that Luhan and Sehun had so desperately fought for. In place of twinkling eyes and a charming smile, sadness sat in the middle of his eyes and chewed up the fringes of his face. He spun slowly as if on a rotating platform, his back to Luhan then turning to face him. Luhan reached for his hand the same time that Sehun leaned forward, grabbing at the back of the boy’s shirt. When their hands touched the edges of the apparition, the boy disappeared, leaving their fingertips cold in his wake.

 

Sehun's arm dropped and he burst into a soul-wrenching sob, a maid's hand tentatively patting his back. Luhan blinked several times, his eyes directly on Sehun but not seeing anything past the dust glinting in the moonlight. He whipped around and hurried up closer to the clock.

 

The hands were motionless against the cracked surface, the minute hand snapped in half. Luhan reached out with a trembling hand and bent the dangling half of the minute hand to its original position. It arrived at four, while the hour hand pointed to three—3:20. It was the time when Jongin was pronounced dead following futile attempts to defibrillate his heart. Luhan closed his eyes, tears squeezing out of the corners and rolling down his cheeks. The implication pulled his chest inward and twisted it into a painful knot. The clock was ruined, irreparable. Jongin was gone forever, and so was Kai.

 

Luhan suddenly felt fatigue enclosing him like a cocoon, his eyelids falling heavily. He dragged his feet up the stairs and into his room, passing by the staff wordlessly trusting they would clean up the mess without his instructions. They would know to lock Sehun up before sending him away the next day. He plopped down on his bed face down and rolled onto his back, tired eyes boring into the ceiling. It felt strangely nostalgic, as if he was counting down the minutes before sleep overtook him and the boy appeared, just like he used to. But this time, Luhan knew that the only visitor would be just sleep tonight, and tomorrow night, and the night after that. Dismay dragged his eyelids down and he thought, perhaps, he’d rather it all have been just a dream.

 

Luhan drifted to sleep, dreaming of a boy that called himself Jongin. His parched lips stretched into a faint smile as tears trickled out of the corners of his eyes.

 

 

⌛ ⌛ ⌛

 

“Luhan! Wake up!”

 

A shout assaults his ears as someone shakes his shoulders violently. Luhan blinks open his eyes, disoriented and baffled. Then he shoots up, wide awake, back hitting the headboard as he gapes at the person sitting on the edge of his bed.

 

“J-Jongin?” he stammered, utterly confused and a little scared. Events from the night before flash before his eyes—the clock was destroyed, and his vision of Jongin’s ghost was irretrievably lost.

 

“Are you alright? You were screaming,” Jongin says, brows furrowed as he scoots closer and holds Luhan’s face in his hands. Luhan doesn’t answer him, still shocked to see Jongin again. The hands cupping his face are warm and fleshy, but the boy named Kai also had warm hands.

 

“At least you woke up. Finally,” Jongin says, relief flooding over his face. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

 

Jongin wraps his arms around Luhan and pulls him close, and Luhan inhales the familiar scent of Jongin, something he never smelled from the boy named Kai. Wide-eyed, Luhan’s mind begins to churn rapidly and he pulls back, hands squeezing into Jongin’s shoulders.

 

“Jongin? Is it really you?” Luhan raises trembling hands to Jongin’s face, feeling the warmth radiate into his fingertips. He pats Jongin all over from his head, shoulders, chest, and grips Jongin’s arms as if to check they are made of flesh. It dawns on him that it really _is_ Jongin, flesh and blood.

 

“It’s you. You’re alive, oh thank God you’re alive.”

 

He bursts into a sob and buries his head into Jongin’s chest.

 

“What are you talking about?” Jongin asked anxiously. He raises Luhan’s head and looks into his teary eyes. “Luhan, what’s wrong?”

 

Luhan shook his head, too overwhelmed to explain. It was just a dream. A bad dream. He sniffles against Jongin’s shirt and links his arms behind him tightly.

 

“Just don’t leave me again,” Luhan mumbled.

 

“But I’ve never left. I’ve always been here,” Jongin said, stroking the back of Luhan’s head. “How are you feeling, though? We should get you some food.”

 

The worried tone in Jongin’s voice tells Luhan something is off.

 

“I’m fine?” Luhan said, uncertain as Jongin continues to look at him in palpable concern. “Why?”

 

Jongin looks hesitant as his eyes search Luhan’s face.

 

“You were in a coma, Luhan,” Jongin says finally. “For months. Since the accident.”

 

“What?”

 

“The accident… do you remember what happened?” Jongin asks, choosing his words carefully.

 

“I remember,” Luhan replies. His voice comes out to be flimsier than he’d have liked.

 

“What was the last thing you remember?”

 

Luhan remembers the accident. He remembers his dad trying to avoid hitting a deer that had dashed into the middle of the road, swerving the car to the far left before it spun out of control. He remembers hitting his head and blacking out for a while before the ambulance came. He remembers being told his parents died instantly and being offered condolences by the paramedics.

 

But he also remembers waiting outside the operating room for hours only for the doctor to come out and tell him they were sorry, that they did their best, and he would never forget how he felt like a freight train had rammed into him with full force because he had lost his best friend in addition to his parents.

 

He remembers feeling alone.

 

“The doctor telling me you died. And my parents, too.” His eyes begin to sting as those words echo faintly in his ears, _I’m sorry. We did our best._

 

“I’m sorry about your parents,” Jongin says softly, squeezing Luhan’s hand. “But I’m fine. I had a few broken bones and that wasn’t pleasant, but I’m fine now. I’m alive and well, see,” Jongin says as he takes Luhan’s finger and pokes it into his cheek.

 

“Okay,” Luhan says quietly. He leans forward and snuggles against Jongin, closing his eyes. “Okay.”

 

“Hold on, I’ll go get some food,” Jongin says, peeling himself away from Luhan’s arms.

 

“No,” Luhan whines. “Don’t go anywhere.” His head knows that Jongin is alive, and that this boy is real, not just an apparition, but his heart is still afraid. He needs Jongin close so he can feel his warmth and heart his heartbeat.

 

“You need to eat, Luhan,” Jongin chides softly standing by the bedside. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

 

 Luhan draws his lips in tight.

 

“Fine,” he grumbles and falls back to the head of the bed. Jongin ruffles up his hair and grins, then turns around and hurries out the door.

 

A maid rushes in shortly, asking how he’s feeling and he reassures her that he is fine. The maid hands Luhan a glass of water that he quickly gulps down while she tidies his room.

 

As Luhan waits for Jongin, he looks around his room idly. It looks the same as ever, every piece of furniture polished and in place, sunlight spilling in between the widely drawn curtains like it did in his dream. Nothing seems amiss, yet everything feels different. It’s hard to believe that months have passed when his dream was almost a replica of reality. His eyes sweep over the bedside table, where he recognizes his wristwatch. 

 

Leaning over to pick it up, he sees that the watch is not working. It must have happened during the accident. Small cracks run through the glass surface which he thumbs over mindlessly.

 

 

The watch had stopped at 3:20.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
